


Without Knowing

by TheAshla (cannedpeaches)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: A New Dawn - John Jackson Miller, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 06:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12501168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannedpeaches/pseuds/TheAshla
Summary: After Atollon and before Yavin IV, Kanan tells Hera where he stands.





	Without Knowing

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Sonnet XVII](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/49236/one-hundred-love-sonnets-xvii%22) by Pablo Neruda.

To say that Kanan Jarrus had had a long day would be the understatement of the year.

 

As he crossed back through the _Ghost_ to get to the cockpit, he could tell that everyone on board felt much the same way. Survivors slumped all over the floors of the cargo bay and hallways, trying to sleep. The adrenaline had worn off, and now all that the remnants of Phoenix Group had was the knowledge that they had lived to fight another day. Kanan sighed as he slowly, slowly picked his way around the bodies, wincing every time he kicked someone by accident. He hadn’t missed war, he thought as he tripped over yet another person. It was exhausting in too many different ways, including some new ones.

 

The cockpit door was open when he reached it. He leaned in the doorway for a moment, listening to the sound of Hera flipping a few controls, the scrape of the yoke as it turned. He could imagine the look on her face: lips pursed, brows drawn together, squinting just a little after so many hours of being awake.

 

“I don’t have to be a Jedi to know you’re there, you know,” she said.

 

The right side of Kanan’s mouth curled into a half-smile as he moved into the cockpit and took the co-pilot’s seat. “You never know,” he said, pulling his mask off. “After Ezra’s done, I’ll need a new padawan.”

 

Hera snorted, and he could hear a rustle of fabric; she was shaking her head at him, her lekku sliding against her back.

 

“How are you doing?” he asked more seriously.

 

She sighed. “I’m tired, but I’m alright. You know how wired I get after…” He imagined her making some hand gesture; yes, he knew she could never sleep for hours after any kind of op, and they had just been in a full-on dogfight with Thrawn’s fleet.

 

Kanan leaned back in his seat, idly twirling his mask in his hands as they sat in companionable silence. Then, a thought occurred to him, and without thinking, he blurted, “It’s been a while since you’ve called me that.”

 

Silence. The sound of fingers moving over controls had stopped.

 

Heat rose in Kanan’s face. He prayed to the Force that most of it was hidden under his beard. He coughed. “Y’know. ‘Luv.’”

 

More silence. Tension radiated off Hera in waves, buffeting Kanan like a strong wind.

 

“I missed it,” he added. He licked his lips. “Why’d you stop?”

 

“Kanan--” Hera stopped short. There was a note of warning in her voice, followed by a series of rapid-fire button clicking. Her shape in the Force shifted, becoming a tight, squirming thing.

 

Kanan cocked his head, listening, feeling. “Hera,” he said. “What are you embarrassed about?”

 

“Nothing!” she said, a little too loudly. She huffed. “It’s just--now’s not a great time to be talking about this, okay?”

 

A spike of anger shot through Kanan’s chest, and he took a deep breath to tamp it down. “Then when is a good time?” he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

 

A few smooth sounds, then the slap of leather on metal; Hera had just thrown her gloves down on the dashboard. “You really want to do this right now?” she asked. He could hear her swallow.

 

Kanan gritted his teeth as he felt around the ship’s controls, his fingers skimming clumsily over the familiar shapes before he found the switch that would close and lock the door. He turned back to her as the door hissed shut, crossing his arms and sitting back in his seat again. “Yeah, I do.”

 

The springs of Hera’s seat creaked, and then her footsteps rang against the metal flooring; she was pacing. “We just barely got off Atollon with our lives--”

 

“And that’s why we need to talk about this _now_.” Kanan, too, bounced to his feet, his mask hitting the floor with a clatter. He balled his fists, straining his ears to figure out where Hera was moving. “We could have died down there, and then we’d never-- We’ve never really--” He ran a hand over his hair, chewing on the inside of his cheek. A rock seemed to be sitting in his chest.

 

“That’s the risk we both agreed to take when we got involved with the Rebellion,” Hera said. “We could have died today, sure. We could die tomorrow. I thought you understood that.” She was a maelstrom in the Force, her energy whipping around her like lightning, and it battered Kanan’s senses.

 

“I do!” Kanan said. “But that doesn’t mean I want to die without telling you how I feel.”

 

“I know how you feel!”

 

“Do you?” Kanan moved several steps closer to her, so that he was standing, approximately, chest to chest with his partner. “Can you honestly tell me that if I’d died today, if I’d actually been killed in that orbital bombardment, you’d have no regrets about us?”

 

The storm around Hera suddenly stopped, the tendrils retreating only to be replaced by something icy and small. _Fear._ Kanan reached for her, taking one of her cold hands between both of his.

 

“I know what I signed up for,” he said. He sighed. “And I know what I signed up for when I fell in love with you. I know how important the Rebellion is to you. I wouldn’t want it any other way, because then you wouldn’t be Hera. But one day, we’re going to win. It’s going to be over. And when that day comes, I know who I want to meet the future with.”

 

He gently pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes, feeling Hera’s uncertainty wash over him. But there was something more there, a layer that always lurked under anything else Hera felt whenever he was with her: a warmth that emanated from her heart, fragile, delicate, and only for him. A small part of him shrunk away, ashamed. He knew he didn’t need to ask her what it was, what it meant.

 

Hera’s head tipped, and then her lips were brushing over his. She clutched his hand. “Kanan, I--”

 

“I know,” he said. “I know you do.”

 

He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her like he’d done so many times before, and she clung to him, wordless. There in the cockpit, flying through hyperspace, they stood like that for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Something has obviously changed in Kanan and Hera's relationship moving from season 3 and into season 4. Kanan is all in, and even Hera seems increasingly reluctant to put aside her feelings. I can only assume that, sometime between the Battle of Atollon and the full _Ghost_ crew's arrival on Yavin IV, they had some kind of talk, and it must have happened pretty early on in the time gap between seasons, because Kanan and Hera are separated for a while. So, this is my interpretation of all that.


End file.
